Réunion Sessions: Creole Language

In what is perhaps an unsurprising revelation, travelling to a new country with only an intermediate level of French was difficult and overwhelming. I spent hours in the supermarket with my online dictionary trying to find the French equivalents of my favourite British staples. Every day ended with a headache from endless translations. Each interaction was a lesson, but in the beginning, the relentless learning curve felt like too much.

A big struggle for me was the fact that most people on the island speak not French but Creole, a language derived from a mixture of French, Hindi, Portuguese, Gujarati and Tamil. The only way I could possibly describe the Creole language is it sounds like French that I can’t understand. It is a big part of Reunionese culture, and according to a 2010 report, 91% of the islanders are Creole-speaking and only 38% of Reunionese people speak French and Creole interchangeably, whereas 53% only speak Creole.

This mixture of French and Creole at first appears to be a great part of the island’s diversity. In fact, when I first arrived on the island, I was surprised by the sheer number of multiracial couples. As someone from London, a multicultural community is somewhat of a comfort to me. Anyone I met would advertise the benefits of living in this “melting pot” of a paradise, where everyone got along and racism didn’t exist.

Obviously, this is far from the case. Despite being a part of France’s new system of “Overseas Departments” – a term designed to mask its imperialist history – there is a clear divide in Réunion between those whose families have been there for generations as the result of France’s colonial past, and those who move from Mainland France or “métropole”.

The first experience I had with this divide happened while I was teaching in two secondary schools on the island. Overseas departments are required to teach all lessons in French, however, as most of my students spoke a majority of the time in Creole, many struggled to speak solely in French. You can imagine for someone who is still developing her fluency in French, trying to speak Creole is another feat entirely. And in fact, many of my colleagues found themselves in the very same predicament, as most schools on the island are made up of teachers from Mainland France, who have no previous knowledge of Creole. Some teachers made an effort to learn the language and understand their students better, but I often heard phrases like “they don’t even speak French” and “they don’t speak proper French”. It was quite disheartening, as not being able to speak French fluently means that for many students, they are denied the opportunity to excel in their classes, and therefore students with parents who have recently immigrated from Mainland France have an academic advantage. For me, learning phrases like “mi kaz” (my house) and “koman i lé” (how are you?) gained the respect of my students and made them pay a lot more attention in my classes. In turn, I felt a lot more connected to everyone in my community when I started learning and speaking Creole. Language seems like such a tiny part of our lives, but this experience gave me the perspective to see how it can really shape our opportunities in life.

A lot of the language used in Réunion today is also rooted in the island’s colonial past. For example, the word “zorey” is a Creole word used to describe white immigrants from Mainland France. It comes from the French word “oreille” meaning ear. According to many locals here, when French colonisers came to Réunion, they had to constantly bend their ear to try and understand what the Creole people were saying, another example of the attitude that both groups have towards each other. I believe that a disregard for the Creole language is still a prevalent attitude among those who immigrate from Mainland France. The word “zorey” is among a number of words used to describe people of different origins – for example, “malbars” (South Indians) and “zarabes” (North Indians with Muslim faith). This constant effort to label people separates them and creates boundaries which in turn creates a very tense atmosphere, which last November reached a boiling point with riots over taxes and general economic inequality.

Nevertheless, despite these linguistic social barriers, I met a lot of people who did pride themselves on coming from a community that was accepting of others from all walks of life. Although I think that there will continue to be a snobbish attitude from those who speak solely French, the tides are turning. In fact, the University of Réunion Island has started offering courses in the Creole language. Small efforts of change, like always, make a big difference.

 

A small update.

For those of you reading this, four months into my time on Réunion Island, hopefully, you can understand why this first post about my time here is so belated. As many other hopeful English Language assistants currently living on the island, I was at first naively optimistic about how easy this transition would be. At first glance, it seems like the perfect opportunity for a twenty-year-old humanities student – a government-funded adventure in paradise with many like-minded individuals. My first dreams about life here were filled with sandy beaches and bonfire parties under the stars, and, like many fantasies, it was embedded at least in some part, by the truth. Needless to say, my life here has given me so much more than I had expected at the beginning of this adventure, but there has also been a fair share of struggles, tears, and the occasional quick Google for a ticket home.

First Impressions

The week before my arrival here, I naturally started to get a bit anxious about my imminent departure halfway across the world, and on further investigation discovered many important facts about Réunion. For those of you who, like me, had never heard of Réunion before, here is some key information about the island:

  1. Réunion is part of the overseas departments of France, however, unlike other regions such as Martinique, has a much more developed infrastructure.
  2. Due to the “diverse history” of the island (ie. slavery and forced labour), the island is a proudly proclaimed “melting pot”, with many religions and ethnicities visible in the community.
  3. Réunion is also a volcano hotspot and is home to one of the most active volcanoes in the world, Piton de la Fournaise, which has had approximately 100 eruptions since 1640.
  4. And finally, the island has an online reputation as the “shark capital of the world”, with eight fatal attacks since 2011.

Needless to say, the last two facts made me decidedly anxious about my arrival here, as a sheltered life in West London did not prepare me for this Temple of Doom life I was about to be embarking on. More importantly, I have never learnt to swim, and to the amazement of anyone in my life with any sense at all, I was about to move to a shark-infested island for seven months…and no I did not have a death wish.

Geographically the island is very interesting, with long-held social stereotypes dividing the 800,000 people who currently live here. Saint-Denis, the capital city in the North represents the only urbanised area on the island – a microcosm of diversity, opportunity and violence all wrapped up into one. The West of the island is a mini Saint-Tropez, with kitch juice bars and amateur Instagram models carefully placed on some of the nicest beaches on the island. The Eastside of the island is widely uninhabited, due to fumes and debris from the volcano. Finally, I live in the “city in the South”, Saint Pierre, known for its laidback atmosphere and array of cute but overpriced boutiques.

On a personal level, the people here are generally lovely and have shown me a kindness that would seem almost ludicrous back home. People’s doors are always open (in both senses) and I was ushered around banks, healthcare centres, and supermarkets during my first weeks here out of sheer goodwill from my colleagues. I’ve been allowed a glimpse into the daily lives that people live here: dinners, movie nights and family picnics are the only things which kept me going at the beginning and being an only child, I’ve really enjoyed being part of these new families. Family is valued here in the purest sense, and on Sunday’s the beaches are filled with groups of loved ones eating potluck’s and running around in the sun. That said, you really don’t need a beach or a nice picnic spread or even an excuse to make time with ones you love, something perhaps I’ve only appreciated being so far away from them.